


takes a bit more

by meganekun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hugs, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, flashbacks to their second year as well, kunimi is Overwhelmed, third year kinkunis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganekun/pseuds/meganekun
Summary: It starts like this: in their third year, Kindaichi Yuutarou and Kunimi Akira are elected vice-captain and captain, respectively, and boy, if it’s nothing but hard work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i just really wanted to post something for kinkuni because they do not get remotely as much attention as they should  
>   
> though the watakyouhaba is very minor, this is being posted in mind with _day 6: exploration_ of the **hqot3week** , which i also have another fic in my drafts for :D  
>   
> title: the 1975 - you

 

It starts like this: in their third year, Kindaichi Yuutarou and Kunimi Akira are elected vice-captain and captain, respectively, and boy, if it’s nothing but hard work.

 

 

Back in their first year, under Oikawa’s pompous, yet steadily quiet leadership, with his ace Iwaizumi by his side, what they did seemed effortless. Neither Kunimi nor Kindaichi ever truly questioned the authority and trustworthiness they emitted – but they didn’t make it far in competition. Not far enough.

Next year, Yahaba and Kyoutani took on their roles.

To be fair, it was a joint effort of Yahaba, Kyoutani and Watari; though the latter, as a libero, could not be captain, Watari simply had a touch for interacting with their new first years, animating them when they felt discouraged, making sure they could acknowledge their own potential and rise up to it. Vice-captain Kyoutani, with his raw power and energy, was awe-inspiring, even if not always a good example to follow off-court. Yahaba knew how to keep everyone in line: Kindaichi, having hung out with him since before his captaincy, found it a funny display when the first years scaredly flocked toward Kyoutani, who unlike his setter rarely felt the need to raise his voice and call out slackers.

 

They had known it since the Monday after yet another failed attempt to win the Spring High (they did get further, though, this time).

"Kindaichi, Kunimi, would you mind staying behind?" Yahaba asked, neutrally cheerful as ever.

"I thought you two were on clean-up duty today," Kunimi retorted – he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night due to late night texting.

"We are," Kyoutani responded slowly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, though his scowl stayed in place. "We just want to talk to you about next year."

Unsurprisingly, Yahaba did most of the talking.

"… so Kentarou, Shinji and I had a long discussion about what kind of legacy we want to leave behind."

"Just get to the chase, dipshit, tell them who’s captain and who’s vice."

"Jesus Christ, shut up!"

"Okay, okay, but it’s on you if I fall asleep to the noise of your metaphors."

"I’ll lock you up."

"Like hell you will!"

"Ahem," Kindaichi cleared his throat abashedly to remind the two of their presence.

"Right," Yahaba straightened his posture and put his hands in his lap neatly. "We were unsure for a long time, but I think our final decision is justified."

"Kunimi, congratulations on being the new captain of the Aoba Johsai High School volleyball club!"

 

 

**_**

 

 

"I didn’t expect it," Kunimi says. He’s sat on the bench before the lockers, so he couldn’t possibly have seen Kindaichi come in, but the timing of his statement is perfectly synced up with the moment the middle blocker has set foot in the room.

Kindaichi inhales deeply, but fails once the exhale comes too short and fast. When he tries it again and succeeds this time, he makes his way toward Kunimi and stands behind him, not daring to sit down.

Kunimi rolls his eyes and pats the bench next to him.

"What do you mean," Kindaichi says.

"The captaincy," Kunimi replies quietly. In his periphery vision, he can see Kindaichi furrow his eyebrows in a frown, so he elaborates, though it sounds like he doesn’t understand why he has to.

"I thought it’d be you," he says, "I thought they’d pick you."

They let the admission take up all the space in the dimmed room, until the air is full with it, until Kindaichi pieces his words together.

"Just because I spent more time with Yahaba-san than you did, doesn’t mean he would have let himself be so biased. Besides, it wasn’t just his decision, remember – Kyoutani-san always liked you, and Wa–"

"That’s not what I meant," Kunimi shakes his head and presses his tongue against his cheek.

He turns around on the bench so that his left knee is positioned against his stomach and he can look Kindaichi in the eyes – though he doesn’t, not really, he looks down, but Kindaichi senses and copies his movements, swinging one leg over the bench, straddling it.

"What is it then," he asks, softly, and any trace of a scowl disappears off his face as he pushes closer, as if hearing Kunimi better would help him understand better, too.

Maybe it’s not that stupid of a thing to do.

Kunimi rolls around the thought of _You would have been a better captain than me_ until the conditional part of it dissolves in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that he can’t get rid of, no matter how many times he swallows the pooling saliva. Because even though factually Kindaichi is not the one they chose, he’s been leading this team from the very beginning. Because Kunimi’s attentiveness – the quality Yahaba, Kyoutani and Watari must have counted on – means nothing if it’s not paired with an untiring desire to help, to explain, to be better and to inspire others to get better, too.

And Kunimi is tired, so tired, it’s only been a month, but the phantom ache in his shoulders is made up of every lost practice match, every dissatisfying training session – because it’s up to him now to make them satisfying, not his senpai, because there _are_ none. There’s nobody to back him up, give him guidance–

Kunimi opens his mouth to voice at least a portion of all that and more that has been on his mind, weighing him down, when suddenly, an idea sprouts its roots inside of him, like wheat reaching deep into the earth to collect the water it needs and not letting itself be torn out, and this realization he has meanwhile only fertilizes it further.

 

 

_

 

"Uh, wow, thank you," Kunimi said, blinking furiously, eyes wide.

He felt some sort of restlessness build up inside of him that also simultaneously made him want to lie down and not stand up for another couple of months, and his fingers started shaking a little bit. But it didn’t settle in just yet.

"No need to thank us, Kunimi-kun," Yahaba smiled. Kyoutani turned his head towards the gym door abruptly, and as the other three followed his lead, they saw Watari’s buzz cut flash on the threshold, before he stuck his head back in and waved.   

"You guys done yet?"

"In a bit, you can come on in," Yahaba motioned for him to do so.

"Well, congrats Kunimi, Kindaichi, our new co-captains," Watari exclaimed, leaning forward behind the two chairs Yahaba and Kyoutani were sitting on, supporting his weight by putting one hand on one shoulder each.

Kunimi bowed his head.

 

 

___

 

 _I’m not alone in this_ , Kunimi reminds himself. _I have responsibilities, but I don’t have to carry them alone._

He inches forward on the bench, pushing his leg out of the way, rests his head underneath Kindaichi’s chin, an invitation to be held like he’d never admit he needs to be, and holds his breath.

It’s no surprise, and he doesn’t expect much more, when Kindaichi stiffens against him. Kunimi knows he’s not uncomfortable, at least, with his tendency to blabber nonsense when he is; he’s just frozen in surprise, or maybe embarrassment, but that’s fine. It wouldn’t be the first time Kunimi was selfish with him, though unintentionally for the most part. Later, he can let the guilt collect in his mouth, poisoning the skin of his cheek, until it blubbers like brew in a witch’s kettle, until he can’t stand the taste anymore, biting the inside of his lower lip and sticking out his tongue in a fruitless attempt to get rid of it.

Kunimi lowers his head further, so that his nose is flat against Kindaichi’s chest, when he feels it: the subtle inhale-exhale of his firm chest, the shuffling of movement, and broad, warm palms on his shoulder blades.

"Ku–" Kindaichi says, the volume of his voice a little too loud for the moment, especially spoken so close. "Ak…"

The name dies on his lips, spoken quieter to begin with, this time, but Kunimi feels a small portion of the tenseness in his shoulders soften and fade away into the white noise in his ears. It’s not quite white noise, to be precise, more akin to the sounds you perceive when underwater, indistinct and muted, or the noise of the earphones’ wires shifting when the music gets over a quiet passage, but it makes the buzz of thoughts in his mind, running wild at all times, shut down until all he can think about is the unsteady rhythm of Kindaichi’s hands stroking from his shoulders down his spine, fingers skipping out on certain spaces from the shakiness.

Slowly, Kunimi lifts his hands from where they rested, curled into the wood of the bench between them, and fists them in Kindaichi’s jersey, positioning his head sideways, so that his left ear is pressed against it in stead of his nose. _I’m not going anywhere,_ he thinks, but it’s no longer coming from a place of what he believes to be selfishness, but something else, the same something that made Kindaichi ask him what was wrong in that gentle tone he usually doesn’t know how to use, the same something that made him stutter on the syllables of Kunimi’s first name – the fertilizing realization.

"Akira," Kindaichi says then, so quietly that Kunimi rather feels the puff of air on the crown of his head than hears it. Kunimi hums in response.

"You should’ve told me," he whispers and tightens his embrace to a point where Kunimi thinks he might suffocate a little for a few moments, before he loosens it again, still holding him closer than before.

Kunimi doesn’t feel like questioning how Kindaichi knows what’s been on his mind, and simply takes in the thud, thud, thud of Kindaichi’s heart – his hands aren’t shaking anymore, but his heartbeat is still just a tad too fast – as if making sure that, just like himself, Kindaichi isn’t going anywhere, either.

"You don’t wanna talk about it, do you," he says, in a tone that implies it’s not a question that needs answering. Kunimi shakes his head out of sheer appreciation, effectively nuzzling his nose back and forth against the stitched out numbers _1_ and _2_ , and a few minutes go by silently, until he says:

"You didn’t want to talk about Kageyama either."

Kindaichi’s chest shakes with quiet laughter, "Until you forced it out of me by repeatedly calling me out on being 'too salty'."

Kunimi feels the corners of his mouth stretch into a smile helplessly. "You _are_ too salty," he murmurs and moves one of his hands to Kindaichi’s back.


End file.
